{"product_id":"subtly-worded-and-other-stories-isbn-9781782277309","title":"Subtly Worded and Other Stories","description":"\u003cb\u003eA selection of the finest stories by this female Chekhov, now available in a striking new Pushkin Blues format.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTeffi's genius with the short form made her a literary star in pre-revolutionary Russia, beloved by Tsar Nicholas II and Vladimir Lenin alike. These stories, taken from the whole of her career, show the full range of her gifts. Extremely funny-a wry, scathing observer of society-she is also capable, as capable even as Chekhov, of miraculous subtlety and depth of character.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere are stories here from her own life (as a child, going to meet Tolstoy to plead for the life of \u003ci\u003eWar and Peace\u003c\/i\u003e's Prince Bolkonsky, or, much later, her strange, charged meetings with the already-legendary Rasputin). There are stories of émigré society, its members held together by mutual repulsion. There are stories of people misunderstanding each other or misrepresenting themselves. And throughout there is a sly, sardonic wit and a deep, compelling intelligence.Nadezhda Teffi was a phenomenally popular writer in pre-revolutionary Russia - a favourite of Tsar Nicholas II and Vladimir Lenin alike. She was born in 1872 into a prominent St Petersburg family and emigrated from Bolshevik Russia in 1919. She eventually settled in Paris, where she became an important figure in the émigré literary scene, and where she lived until her death in 1952. A master of the short form, in her lifetime Teffi published countless stories, plays and feuilletons. After her death, she was gradually forgotten, but the collapse of the Soviet Union brought about her rediscovery by Russian readers. Now, nearly a century after her emigration, she once again enjoys critical acclaim and a wide readership in her motherland.The Corsican\u003cbr\u003e The interrogation had been dragging on, and the\u003cbr\u003e police officer felt exhausted; he declared a break and\u003cbr\u003e went off to his office for a rest.\u003cbr\u003e With a sweet smile of satisfaction he was approaching\u003cbr\u003e the couch; suddenly he stopped, his face taking on a twisted\u003cbr\u003e look, as if he had seen something foul.\u003cbr\u003e The other side of the wall, a loud bass voice was singing,\u003cbr\u003e clearly enunciating each word: “Forward, forward, O\u003cbr\u003e working class!”\u003cbr\u003e Not quite able to keep up with this, out of time and out of\u003cbr\u003e tune, a timid and hoarse little voice was singing: “Fowad, fowad!”\u003cbr\u003e “What on earth’s going on?” the officer exclaimed, pointing\u003cbr\u003e to the wall.\u003cbr\u003e The clerk straightened up a little in his chair.\u003cbr\u003e “I have already had occasion to report to you on the\u003cbr\u003e matter of this agent.”\u003cbr\u003e “What \u003ci\u003eare \u003c\/i\u003eyou on about? Keep it simple.”\u003cbr\u003e “Agent Fialkin has expressed a pressing and imperative\u003cbr\u003e wish to enter the ranks of our provocateurs. This is the\u003cbr\u003e second winter running that he has been on duty by the\u003cbr\u003e Mikhailov tramway. He’s a quiet chap. Only he’s ambitious\u003cbr\u003e beyond his station in life. Here I am, he says, wasting my\u003cbr\u003e youth and expending the best of my strength on the trams.\u003cbr\u003e He is concerned about the slow progress of his career on\u003cbr\u003e the trams and the impossibility of applying his exceptional\u003cbr\u003e abilities—that is, supposing he possesses such abilities.”\u003cbr\u003e “For juthtith thake we thpill our blood,” went the thin\u003cbr\u003e voice behind the wall.\u003cbr\u003e “Out of tune!” said the bass.\u003cbr\u003e “And is he talented?” asked the officer.\u003cbr\u003e “He’s ambitious—even excessively ambitious. He wants\u003cbr\u003e to become a provocateur, but he doesn’t know a single revolutionary\u003cbr\u003e song. He’s been moaning on and on about this.\u003cbr\u003e And so police constable No. 4711 has come to his rescue.\u003cbr\u003e No. 4711 knows every song perfectly—you’d think he had\u003cbr\u003e the music right there in front of him. Now, of course, most\u003cbr\u003e constables know the words well enough. You can hardly\u003cbr\u003e block your ears when you’re out on the streets. But this one\u003cbr\u003e has a fine feel for music as well. So he’s teaching Fialkin.”\u003cbr\u003e “Well, well! And so now they’re belting out the\u003cbr\u003e ‘Warszawianka’,” the officer murmured dreamily. “Ambition’s\u003cbr\u003e no bad thing. It can help a man get on in the world. Take\u003cbr\u003e Napoleon. A simple Corsican, but he achieved… quite\u003cbr\u003e something…”\u003cbr\u003e “The people’s flag is burning red. It’s sheltered oft our\u003cbr\u003e martyred dead,” growled constable No. 4711.\u003cbr\u003e “They seem to be on another tune already,” said the\u003cbr\u003e officer, suddenly suspicious. “Is he teaching him all the\u003cbr\u003e revolutionary songs in one go?”\u003cbr\u003e “Every last one of them. Fialkin’s in a hurry. He thinks\u003cbr\u003e there’s an important conspiracy being hatched.”\u003cbr\u003e “Well, there’s certainly no lack of ambition round here!”\u003cbr\u003e “The see-eed of the future,” Fialkin bleated from behind\u003cbr\u003e the wall.\u003cbr\u003e “The energy of the Devil,” sighed the officer. “They say\u003cbr\u003e that when Napoleon was just a simple Corsican…”\u003cbr\u003e From the staircase below came muffled thumps and a\u003cbr\u003e kind of roar.\u003cbr\u003e “And what’s that?” asked the officer, raising his eyebrows.\u003cbr\u003e “That’s our lot, on the ground floor. They eat there.\u003cbr\u003e They’re getting agitated.”\u003cbr\u003e “What about?”\u003cbr\u003e “Seems they can hear the singing. They don’t like it.”\u003cbr\u003e “Damn it! This really is a bit awkward. People out on\u003cbr\u003e the street might hear, too. They’ll think there’s a protest\u003cbr\u003e meeting here in this building.”\u003cbr\u003e “Damn you!” said the bass the other side of the wall.\u003cbr\u003e “Howling like a dog! Is that the way a revolutionary sings?\u003cbr\u003e A revolutionary sings with an open heart. He makes a clear\u003cbr\u003e sound. Every word can be heard. But you just whimper\u003cbr\u003e into your cheeks, and your eyes keep darting about. Keep\u003cbr\u003e your eyes still! I’m saying this for the last time. Or I’ll up\u003cbr\u003e and leave. If you’re really so keen to have lessons, you can\u003cbr\u003e go and find yourself a Maximalist!”\u003cbr\u003e “Now he’s losing his temper,” grinned the clerk. “A real\u003cbr\u003e Vera Figner.”\u003cbr\u003e “Ambition! Ambition!” the officer repeated. “And he’s\u003cbr\u003e taken it into his head to be a provocateur… No, brother,\u003cbr\u003e there’s no rose without thorns. Court martials don’t have\u003cbr\u003e time for long deliberations. Get yourself arrested, brother,\u003cbr\u003e and no one will bother to check whether you’re a revolutionary\u003cbr\u003e or whether you’re the purest of provocateurs. You’ll\u003cbr\u003e swing for it anyway.”\u003cbr\u003e “Gluttons grow fat on workers’ sweat,” roared the bass,\u003cbr\u003e letting himself go.\u003cbr\u003e “Ow! It’s even making my teeth ache! Can’t anyone find\u003cbr\u003e a way to talk him out of all this?”\u003cbr\u003e “But how can they?” sighed the clerk. “He’s a man possessed.\u003cbr\u003e People are all such careerists nowadays.”The finest stories from a rediscovered Russian master","brand":"Pushkin Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300101607653,"sku":"NP9781782277309","price":17.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781782277309.jpg?v=1767737481","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/subtly-worded-and-other-stories-isbn-9781782277309","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}